My Performance
by The Newest Message
Summary: Some psycho has a bone to pick with JD. He attacks, and Cox feels guilty. JD survives, and is abducted soon afterward for a more thorough disposal. More inside. JD/Cox, JDA, DCA, Torture
1. Creepo

**Title: **My Performance

**Author: **The Newest Message (Call me Nessa!)

**Rating: **M- violence, language, m/m, disturbing psycho, disturbing situations, peril...

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. _Nothing_.

**Summary: **Elliot gets herself a stalker who promptly finds himself jealous of JD and messes the kid up. Dr. Cox feels guilty and upset and whatnot, and more bad stuff happens that is... _really bad_. I don't want to tell you it all now! Just read!

**Warnings: **JDA, DCA (Torture in the somewhat near future). And I love cliffhangers!

**Pairings: **JD/Cox. And Turla by default.

**A/N: **This is going to be a hella long Scrubs fic. I try to make my chapters longer, and I'm only working on this one fic for now (I have four FFNet accounts), so updates should come easily enough. Each update will have a chapter, and a response to each of you reviewers! (That is... if I get any.) Lastly, the parenthesis next to each chapter show who's perspective it's in, if anyone's.

Bit of a slow start. Stuff happens in this chapter though.

start/

**My Performance**

**Chapter One (JD)**

"**Creep-o"**

I was doing that thing I did.

I was, but Dr. Cox was doing that thing he did, too, and he wasn't hearing a single one of the exited words that fell out of my mouth. He sat stiffly beside me, stabbing into his salad hard enough that his plastic fork was threatening to snap in half. Carla was frowning at him, thinking what, I didn't know, because I was still doing that thing I did.

That thing I did. You know- talking.

I didn't notice that he wasn't listening. In fact, at that point I probably didn't really remember who I was supposed to be talking to, anyway. I didn't even know what I was talking _about_.

Neither did Dr. Cox, because Dr. Cox was doing that thing he did. You know- ignoring me.

Elliot collapses into a chair beside Carla and blows her piece-y, blonde hair out of her face in that tell-tale way. Dr. Cox didn't look up from his abused salad, "What's wrong with you?" he quipped, without a hint of concern in his voice. Elliot glared at him briefly before turning in her chair to Carla. She inhales deeply- big story on it's way.

Dr. Cox knew he didn't want to hear this big story and, finally, turns to me, "Melissa!"

I stop talking, as he knew I would, and feel my lips twitch into a tiny, sheepish smile.

"_Shut... up_," he shoved lettuce into his mouth, then, finishing that.

His words didn't _hurt _or anything. I mean, I've heard them a _million_ times! Dr. Cox has nothing on _me_! Still, I wilted inside, just a little, not really _noticeably_, and went on to listen to Elliot as she did that thing _she_ does.

That thing she does. You know- whine.

Her voice gets faster as she gets more panicked, and I have to really focus in order to catch up. Carla is just nodding, as usual, although this time she's a bit more intrigued.

"Dear God," I hear Dr. Cox mutter. He begins to stand up, but sits down again because something has caught his attention.

"...and I think he's _stalking me, _Carla! He's such a... a creep-o!" She squeals. Dr. Cox just gives her an eyebrow, then dubs the situation harmless and strolls off, dumping his entire tray arrogantly into the wastebasket. I sigh, and get up to follow. I had no tray- I wasn't eating lunch today.

"Dr. Cox!" I catch up easily enough- it was not as though here were _sprinting _from the cafeteria.

He doesn't say anything, but he does begin to whistle.

"Dr. Cox, shouldn't we go see how Mr. Branley is?" I almost grab his arm to slow him down, but I catch myself. My heart literally leaps into my throat- that was a close one.

Dr. Cox stops and wheels around to face me, and I just stand there and wait for the insults, or whatever other crap he's gotten for me, "Sally, you're a _doctor_, too! Soooo-!" he takes a deep breath to continue, but he ends up shaking his head, pivoting where he stands, and stalking off. I give his receding figure an upset look, but there's really nothing I can do- he must be upset about something.

Whatever.

I turn around and run into Turk, who's hand is instantly in the air, "J-dog!"

I high-five him, a smile instantly on my face- who needs Dr. Cox? "Hey, T-dog! What's up? Why aren't you in the cafeteria with Carla?"

His face immediately falls, "Baby's mad at me for takin' Rowdy to the groomer's again. I just don't get it, Vanilla Bear! She complains about how bad he smells, then complains about me takin' him to the groomer's!" then he leans in and gives me a look, "But he does smell _nasty_, man. 'You know what happened?"

I shake my head somberly and clap a hand onto his shoulder, "I dunno, C-bear." But I do know. I'm the one who got lasagna all over the poor guy. I'd tried to bathe him, but there wasn't any soap, so I just ended up scrubbing him down and then spraying him with a lot of Carla's perfumes. Perfumes which Turk just described as "_nasty"_.

Turk gestures for his path and I let him go reluctantly- now I've got to face whatever's wrong with Mr. Branley on my own. This kind of thing happened all of the time, but I was really worried about Mr. Branley. Not only had I been unable to diagnose him, but his attitude was one I was having trouble with. Obviously, I'd had other jackass patients like him before, but this guy was very... Cox-esque. And we all know how well I deal with Dr. Cox.

"Rebecca! Get _in_ there!" Cox had come back from wherever he had gone, and he was still chugging ahead at full speed, "Go, go, go, go, go, go, shoo, _shoo_!" he didn't slow down one bit as he shoved the clipboard into my hand and me into the room, "You can diagnose this puppy," he growled into my ear. I felt a chill go up my spine and I shuddered as soon as the door closed behind me. Mr. Branley snorted.

Well, that told me that Dr. Cox knew what was wrong with this guy- he really was just making sure I could do this on my own. Fine! I would! No sweat!

"_Well_? What the hell are in you in here for?!" Branley barked. I jumped, even though the fifty-year-old was very much unable to do anything to me- his muscles were weak and twitchy. Atrophied, by now, for sure. Standing up wasn't even remotely feasible. Perhaps why he was so damn pissed at me and everyone all the time.

Well, he got on enough with Dr. Cox- they seemed to see eye-to-eye.

Which made me wonder if the only way to get Dr. Cox to respect me was to just be a jackass.

I sighed and looked over Mr. Branley's charts as I approached his bed, "All tests are negative, Mr. Branley. We're going to have to start from scratch. Are you sure there is something you're not telling me?"

He thinned his lips, and I could see rage boiling and building away behind his eyes.

I stopped him before he could detonate, "Right! Well, I'll go run some more tests, then!" I scooted out of the room and shook my head- there were no more tests to take. I'd tested for every possibility so many times- nothing.

I glanced to the nearest clock and ran my hands through my hair. Just another hour and I could flee.

Carla came bustling by. I was going to say something, but she only pressed a chart into my hands, "Second floor." She hurried on.

I shrugged and inspected the new chart on my way to the elevator. It was lifted free of my hands then, and I ran into the blue wall that was the Janitor. He smiled strangely.

"I need that," I stated simply, looking up to it longingly. Janitor looked at it, but it was too far up for me to reach- I just frowned and waited for the Janitor to do whatever it was he wanted to do.

"Oh, I know- that's what inspired me to take it from you," he looked at it a little longer, eyes squinted. He made a sound that announced that this whole thing was boring him, then smacked my head with the clipboard and flung it a few feet to the side. I just stared, a bit indignant, and sneered at him as he strolled away with his trusty mop, grinning genially, whistling good-naturedly.

I sighed and fished my papers up from the linoleum, then hurried to the elevator to check out the new patient. I frowned as I looked it over. Just some guy- Raymond Lynch. But there was nothing much else on the charts. Must be some poor bloke without insurance.

I find him quickly enough. He lays there on his bed, seeming very casual, very laid back, almost amused by something. Or maybe excited? He's fully clothed, and his hands are set behind his head as he sits there dazedly, lost smile plastered on his pale face. His eyes are dark enough to pass as black from a distance, and his hair is a dishwater-brown type of thing. I notice how sickly he looks as I get closer- his eyes are slightly bloodshot. His skin has a strange, tinted pallor. I guess this was regular for anyone too attached to a computer or something, though. Perhaps he just had a stressful job and was a bit overworked. I wrote that down. Still, despite all of this, he seems very fit. As fit as Dr. Cox maybe. Curious.

"Hi, Mr. Lynch! I'm Dr. Dorian, I'll be-" he stops my words with his sudden change in behavior. He sits up straight, his hands fly to his sides and he becomes instantly tense and alert. He looks about a bit before his eyes settle on me.

He asks, "Who are you?" His voice is low. I can tell he wants to intimidate me.

This takes me by surprise, needless to say. Either he hasn't had sleep for much too long, he has a psychological problem, or he is on drugs. That is my instant conclusion, and I'll be damned if I don't find one of those true after this little chat.

"I'm... Dr. Dorian..." I respond dumbly. I had just said that, hadn't I?

Lynch sits back again, irritated, "Oh. Well, I asked for Dr. Reid. Go get her," he says, as if it were not rude to do so. I frown and look at his chart. It doesn't say anything about Elliot, and I was pretty sure her shift had ended.

"She's not... in right now?"

His dark eyes narrowed, "I just saw her a little while back. Go get her."

He was such a... creep-o. I sit my chart down at the end of his bed and leave the room, determined to find Carla and ask her what the hell is up with this patient she just handed off to me.

I run into Elliot as soon as I leave the room, "Oh! JD! Is he gone?" she asks me this as though I am supposed to know what she is talking about. She looks past me, through the open door, and sees Lynch there, just grinning.

She squeaks and ducks, but Lynch is already up, "_Elliooot_!" He strides over and holds his arms out, asking for a hug, "What took you so long, honey?"

I look to her curiously, and find her swallowing down the contents of her stomach bravely. She doesn't say anything, and her mouth is closed tight, her eyes wide.

I intervene, "Uh, Mr. Lynch, please remain in your room until we have an attending assigned to you."

He glares and I fear for my life. Where was Dr. Cox, again?

"Shut up, _lady_," he sneers, clearly at me. And that creepy smile is on his face as he looks at Elliot, "Baby, come on!"

Finally, Elliot clears her throat. She grabs my sleeve and moves forward. Raymond sees her hand and I an feel the rage radiate from him, "Um... Mr. Lynch?" her voice shakes, _she _shakes, "_I don't know you_."

I can see some sort of impact hit him, but I don't know what it is, yet. I squint, trying hard to figure out the situation.

He smiled anxiously, desperately trying to get her to look at him, "Elliot, baby, what do you mean? We-" at this point he puts a hand on her shoulder, and I feel her tense. She screams sharply and jerks away, pulling my sleeve and me back with her. Shock is evident on Lynch's face and I get defensive. There's definitely something wrong.

"Don't!" She warns shrilly as he comes for her again, "I have my rape whistle!" She pulls it out and shoves it into her mouth. I frown- she has me, too. I'm here. Her hand is wrapped in my sleeve and she still doesn't know that?

Dr. Cox strolls up behind us and I feel relief flood trough Elliot. And me.

"What's happening here, Shirley?" he asks me, eyeing Mr. Lynch warily.

And I know they've never met each other, never even _seen _each other, but there is so much hate in the atmosphere at this point that I'm choking on it. I can smell Dr. Cox's cologne behind me as he steps forward, and Elliot shrieks, "That's him!! He's the creep-o!!"

Dr. Cox is angry now, but Lynch is laughing nervously, desperately trying to get Elliot to understand something. Still, I don't trust him, and I step forward, too, but Elliot is really clinging to me now, and I can't really go far. Dr. Cox ushers Lynch back into his room and closes the door, and Lynch is submissive, he can't handle Dr. Cox- he's so much more firm with his attitude. Still... I can't help but notice that they're about the same size.

Elliot spits out her whistle, and looks at me, and realizes that she has both of her arms wrapped around mine. She smiles, a little, "I have to go find Carla. Bye, JD." I just let her go. She'll tell me about this later, after she's talked to Carla.

I wait for Dr. Cox, because he's in there talking sternly to Lynch, who doesn't seem to be paying attention. He just watches Elliot go, then glares at me. Dr. Cox comes out a few minutes later, "Who's patient?" he quips.

"Mine."

"Send him home- he's fine."

I can only question with a look, but Dr. Cox ignores me and strides away purposefully. I wilt- I didn't really feel like going into Mr. Lynch's room. Like, at all. Still, all I had to do was send him home.

That doesn't convince me, but I stroll into Mr. Lynch's room before I'm able to lose my nerve. I pick up his charts reflexively and say-

He speaks before I can, "I saw her back there, you know," he's spitting the words. I have no idea what exactly it is that he is trying to tell me, and I keep my mouth shut. I simply clutch the clipboard tightly and wait for him to explain himself.

"Elliot," he goes on, bitter, "I saw her _clinging _to you. Don't think I don't know what that means, you _prick_."

Again, he's really surprised me. I set his charts down, "Mr. Lynch, I don't-!"

Again, he's eager to cut me off, "I don't want to hear it!" he's snappish, and I really don't know what to do. I see Dr. Cox in my peripheral (I know he wanted to make sure this Raymond guy wasn't going to be violent) and he rolls his eyes and stalks off. This kicks me in to gear.

"Look, Sheila, I don't know what has yourpanties all up in a bunch, and I don't have time to find out! Now, Dr. Cox tells me you're fine, so you... just _scoot_!" I pivot, and stomp out of the room, probably with much too much attitude. I look over the scene that just went on in there, and realize quite easily that I was a very bad Dr. Cox. My rant was two sentences long!

I go only a short distance, shaking my head and scorning my own poor performance, before running into another body. This is something I seem to do on a frequent basis.

I look to see who it is this time- Kelso, the Janitor, Cox...

Ugh. _Janitor_.

"Scooter! Short time, have seen!"

I squint.

"You know... like, 'long time, no see'... only... since I just _saw_ you up_stairs_..." He sees me not getting this, and waves me off before moving on. Dodged!

Something hits me in the back of the head. I turn around and rub at my hair reflexively, to see the Janitor giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I spot a muffin on the ground. Because I'm a good citizen, I pick it up to dispose of (actually, I think I was planning on eating it) and I hear the distinctive roar of Bob Kelso somewhere near.

"And when I _find _who stole my -!" he spots me and locks his glare. A sarcastic smile is perched on his features at this point. My feet tell me to run. My mind tells me to scarf down this chocolate delight before Kelso can get a step closer.

"Oh, hello, Sport," he snatches the treat away from me as I am poised to shove the entire thing down my gullet. I admit, something inside me hurt at that moment, "I see you stole my _muffin_. Well, let me tell you, _next time _something like this happens I'll just have you c_o_ok _more_ for me! And I'll make _sure_ you don't like _that_!"

And suddenly I'm dreaming, staring dazedly into a light fixture as images of Kelso forcing me to cook him fifteen pounds of bacon, _shirtless_. I shake my head and I shudder, then skip down the halls as though I'd never left planet Earth. Gah, I hate cooking bacon! That hot grease _burns_!

Again, I don't go far before finding myself interrupted.

"Bambi! I heard about what happened with the patient! Are you alright!?" Carla was calling to me from the nurse's station. I immediately head for her, and I see Elliot it there, too. Dr. Cox is hovering in the background, as usual, just to be with us, and, of course, to insert his occasional, smart-ass remark.

"Oh, I sent Mr. Lynch home," I say, matter-of-factly. Really, the whole thing was weird, but I'd already shaken it off. Weird stuff happens all the time, but it doesn't last long. I had nothing to worry about.

"So he left, then!?" Elliot squeaks, still shaken, apparently.

I don't know if he left- I didn't stick around to make sure. But... he did, right? He wouldn't be stupid enough to hang out around here, right? I couldn't really know- he seemed to be quite the psychopath. I knew that even though I'd only associated with him for, maybe, seven minutes.

I shrug, "Yeah, I'm sure he left," I say, wondering who to check up on first. I only have about thirty minutes left on my shift, but I, unlike the other doctors, will work though them!

Elliot turns to Carla, who speaks to me one last time before I float off to find another patient, "Bambi, I want you to watch out for that guy, okay? Elliot tells me he's a real weird-o."

"Creep-o," I hear Elliot correct frankly.

Carla rolls her eyes and begins to go back to her own job as Elliot begins to work herself up again, "Bambi? _Okay_?"

I nod, "Sure thing, Carla!" I sing. As I leave, Dr. Cox rolls his eyes and goes on to his own business. I'm pretty sure he's heading to the on-call room to sleep some more. Or, _try_ to sleep some more- there's almost a _line_ of interns following him around. I'm fairly positive that they're all trying to muster the courage to ask him something. I almost go see what they need, but I can't pass up the opportunity to have Dr. Cox tormented by someone's hand other than my own. We all know he blames every hindrance in his life on my existence.

The rest of my shift goes normally. The Janitor trips me, once, but that's a lot better than what he could have done- so I think everything went well enough. The one time I see Dr. Cox he does nothing but nod and give me an acknowledging, "Newbie". I'm almost glowing by the end of a game of checkers with Mrs. Layton.

Ah, I loved Mrs. Layton. Her only goal seemed to be to help me out and know how _I _was doing, even though all she did all day was sit in an unwelcoming hospital bed and think about the horrible case of leukemia she'd been diagnosed with two weeks ago. Still, I like to think that she's simply at peace with her inevitable fate, and not just trying her hardest to get her mind off of it all.

"Be nice to that Miss Elliot! Rude boys never get dates, JD!"

I laugh good-naturedly, "Alright, Ellen! See you tomorrow!" _I hope_.

I hear a snort and know I'm in for something. Dr. Cox is standing in front of me. "Dr. Cox? I thought your shift ended three-" He hushes me with an insistent finger. He is going to talk. I can see several different, though equally degrading, lines run through his mind. He takes a deep breath and settles with, "Drinks?"

He takes me by surprise, but I know better then to question him. I nod, and follow him silently to the lockers, where I change into my street clothes. He waits patiently, but sneers at me when I start to lost my balance while hiking up my jeans. I grab my bag and silently follow him out of the hospital.

I'm nervous- he and I both know the only reason for him to ever invite me out for drinks is if I lost an especial patient, or he does. Or, you know, something else equally or more tragic.

He holds the door open for me, and I have to admit feeling a little perk at that, but I don't say anything. We all know he's not in the mood for some 'girly' remark on my behalf. He really needs me right now!

As if reading my mind, Dr. Cox gives me a disgusted glare and shoves me so he can close the door behind him. I stare and he throws his arm in a hasty gesture for me to move over to the bar counter. I take a seat and drop my bag to the floor.

Dr. Cox pulls up a hand to the bartender, who nods and lines up a good number of shot glasses on the counter. I eye them apprehensively- this is going to be a long night. I have a long shift tomorrow. I know he knows that, and I know he doesn't care. In fact, I'm pretty sure he has got one, too.

I just order a beer. Ordering Appletinis with Cox around is just... not smart.

I think he rolled his eyes anyway. I actually smile at that, a little.

The drinks follow soon, and we occupy ourselves with those for a while.

"So, what's up?" I ask him quietly.

He grunts.

Not ready yet, I suppose.

I know he hates this.

I know Jordan just wouldn't come with him for these sorts of things. Ben's... not around anymore. And this isn't Carla's job. It's me or no one, and we both know it. It just makes it all worse.

"So how was your day, then, Lucinda?" I'm not looking at him, but I know he's not looking at me, either, so it doesn't matter. He drowns another shot and grimaces as it burns his throat in that way he loves too much.

I shrug, "It was a good one."

"You send the Lynch guy home?"

Why'd that matter? "...Yeah."

He laughs, once, and drowns another, "No, you didn't. He was still wandering the halls."

Oh.

I'm not good with the psychos, I admit. I don't understand them. I can't even _begin _to understand them. Consequently, I can't predict their actions.

"...Sorry," I mutter, rolling my drink around in the glass.

"Know what he was doing?" He asks, with a little laughter in his voice. Like it's the darndest, most amusing thing.

I look at him now, but he's still just staring ahead, "N-no, I... oh."

I do know what he was doing. I shudder.

"That's right there, Newbie- Barbie."

Psycho, psycho, psycho.

"She doesn't even know him!" I protest.

Dr. Cox laughs again, dryly, "Exactly, Newbie."

My stomach feels weird. I wonder if Raymond is dangerous or anything.

"And you know who he had with him?"

The way he asks the question makes me want to cry. But, still, I have no idea what he's talking about. I have no idea who he had with him.

I shake my head.

He's silent for a moment. He drowns another and shakes his head, "Forget it," he chokes, still amused.

Another hour passes, at least, and nothing much happens. I try a few times to ask Dr. Cox why he's drug me here, but there is not even the slightest success. Eventually I just content myself with my second and final beer- I can't be hungover tomorrow. The fact that it's past midnight and I'm out at a bar is bad enough.

Eventually, Dr. Cox dubs it time to leave (I noticed him checking the time a lot, actually) and lifts himself from his barstool. He turns, and begins to leave. I hastily pay the tender and bustle after him. He hadn't said _anything_! Why hadn't he said anything? He didn't get anything off his chest with that...

He seemed effectively drunk, though.

My hand hovers over his shoulder, and I'm waiting to have to support him. He shrugs me off, and I see his lips are pressed tightly together.

I pause and wait to start following him. Give him a bit of space, just for a second.

He opens the door, and he's almost spontaneously in an intense conversation with someone out of my line of sight. I speed up and hang my head out to see who it is, but as soon as my tall hair even clears the doorway, a rough, strong hand grabs the shoulder of my jacket and rips be from the bar. I yelp. The door slams behind me.

"Woah, come on! You didn't say anything about _this_!" Dr. Cox is tense, and bent. He doesn't move and I squirm a bit to try and see who the hell it is that's got such a hold on me.

I admit, I thought it _was _Dr. Cox- the strong hold seemed a lot like his.

I squirm, but then something cold presses viciously into my temple. It freezes me easily.

A pained expression burns Cox's face for just a fleeting moment, "Newbie, don't panic," he half-begs.

I feel like I should be telling _him _that- he looks like he's about to vomit all over the pavement.

"...What?" is all I manage to choke out, and I begin to struggle instinctively. The arm that had found its place around my throat tightens and my captor kicks me sharply.

"Don't... fucking... _move_."

Oh.

_Oh_.

_Him_? I feel sick to my stomach- this is just... crazy. Raymond Lynch? Okay, fine... he was a psycho. But why the gun? And why my head?

Dr. Cox eases forward as Raymond kicks me. His hands are still stretched out- he's reaching for me. I feel so sick.

"Hey!" Lynch threatens. He adjusts his aim, and I can feel him tense- I think he's going to shoot.

And just like that the gun is gone from me, to Dr. Cox. I see it in my peripheral and a horrible pitch of rage rushes through me. I duck out of Lynch's hold and spin all in one movement. I grab my own fist and, with the strength of both of my arms, shove my bony elbow up under Raymond's ribcage.

"JD!" Dr. Cox doesn't sound concerned. He sounds surprised, and reprimanding. He starts for us but stops to wince and shield his head as Lynch squeezes off a round from the impact of me as he falls. I hear it ricochet off of a nearby light pole and almost faint with relief when I hear no signs of Dr. Cox hurting.

Lynch's shoulder blades hit the cement hard, and the gun flies out of his hand and comes to a stop against the bricks of the bar. I hear a few people come out of the building to investigate.

I look at them, briefly, and then stare at the gun and rush for it desperately.

"_JD_!" Cox shrieks again, frustrated. I hear him come after me, and I anticipate his arms around my waist. I just need to get the gun! This guy is going to shoot you, Dr. Cox! I _can't _let him shoot you!

Lynch pulls himself forward and grabs my ankle. I fall, as I'm known to do, and crack my head on the brick building. I dazedly watch as Raymond grabs the gun in the same second and stumbles to his feet.

I hear something, I think.

And then Dr. Cox has grabbed the shoulders of Raymond's shirt and thrown him roughly to the sidewalk. He kicks him, twice, in the ribs.

I run my hands over my shirt, and writhe, choking painfully on the air. Dr. Cox hurries over and I protest weakly as I see Raymond scramble to his feet and escape. There are people _everywhere_. Dr. Cox won't stop yelling. Stop yelling, Dr. Cox.

Oh.

And I can't breathe, I can't breathe. I'm choking. Dr. Cox. Dr. Cox, I'm choking. _Perry_.

Finally, I inhale sharply and feel a horrible, horrible pain. I'm gasping. It hurts. It _hurts_.

And I realize.

Perry was just a second too late.

Because there are three dark pools of blood blooming from my chest.

I can't breathe.

/end

**A/N:** By, God, am I horrible? This was originally three long, drawn-out chapters, but I wanted to get this done so bad. I'm horrible. You don't have to tell me.

Also... quite the cliffhanger, if I do say so myself.

One last thing- JD has not fucking passed out. By God, I am sick of JD passing out in other fics. Passing out is bad. Blah.

Next chapter... when? Couple days, probably.

REVIEW, MONKEYS.

**-PEACE OUT**

**NESSA**


	2. What He Didn't Say

**Title: **My Performance

**Author: **The Newest Message (Call me Nessa!)

**Rating: **M- violence, language, m/m, disturbing psycho, disturbing situations, peril...

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. _Nothing_.

**Summary: **Elliot gets herself a stalker who promptly finds himself jealous of JD and messes the kid up. Dr. Cox feels guilty and upset and whatnot, and more bad stuff happens that is... _really bad_. I don't want to tell you it all now! Just read!

**Warnings: **JDA, DCA (Torture in the somewhat near future). And I love cliffhangers!

**Pairings: **JD/Cox. And Turla by default.

**A/N: **I got a pretty good reaction to the first chapter! No Reviewer Reviews this time, though, because I've already replied to all of your reviews. Next time it'll come in the chapter, I think. I love you all for your support!

Wolf Bane 17 is a winner! First review!! Cupcakes for you, my friend! You got the ball rolling for the rest of these reviewers!

And Hazel in Despair is our next winner! Longest _and_ most interesting review! Have a cake! You paid attention to the fic'!

start/

**My Performance**

**Chapter Two (JD)**

"**What He Didn't Say"**

Our hands fly to my chest, trying desperately to fix what's been done. Perry looks serious and somewhat composed, but he's shaking and I can tell he's fit to come apart. His hands are on my chest and he is assessing and understanding the damage.

My hands are on my chest, and I'm confused. And I'm trying so hard to understand what the hell is going on. Still, I can't. My hands pass through the dark blood and I choke again. I'm shaking so hard. What's going on? He shot me! He shot me. Why did he shoot me? What happened?

Panic suddenly and strongly swells in my chest as I gasp and wheeze and choke for air. Panic swells, and so do the three gunshot wounds.

I stare down at them and I feel weightless. I can't see anything but myself and Perry. I can't _hear _anything but myself and Perry. I can't feel _anything_. Nothing. Nothing but the burning in my lungs as they shriek and protest for oxygen.

Perry, I'm choking. I'm choking, Perry.

I don't really know what he's saying, but I figure that he's talking to the people that I know have gathered around us.

"Goddamnit, call for help!" He cries, hands running over my bleeding body in indecision. I can see a thousand thoughts passing over his face, but he still can't find anything to do.

He talks to me and removes the flannel shirt he had been wearing as a jacket. "JD, how's your breathing?"

I thought that was a stupid question. I open my mouth to tell him so, but nothing much comes out other than uncomfortable, iron-y warmth. I cringe inwardly because I know it's blood and I know that's bad. Real bad.

It really sort of sucks to be a wounded doctor.

Dr. Cox grimaces and helps me sit up so he can wrap his jacket tightly around my chest. This hurts, and only restricts my breathing further, and my eyes flutter shut and my head falls back. He begins to stand up, and as he does, his two strong arms shoot underneath me and he heaves me up, "Come on, Newbie," he says, without any convincing strength. He takes off as quickly as he can (nothing but a fast, stumbling walk), and I start to get past the numbness and unawareness I had before.

And I realize.

'Fuck.'

This hurts.

I let out a strangled sound of hurt and twist a bit in Perry's arms, desperate to find a position that numbs the pain. Obviously there isn't one, and I grab at my wounds and my eyes squeeze shut. I should be applying pressure and staying still and calm, but it's impossible. I'm tired from the lack of oxygen, and my throat and lungs are burning from the abuse. It feels like I've inhaled several dozens of razors into my lungs, and it hurts so much to breathe. But, still... I _need _to breathe.

I feel uncomfortable. I'm sticky and hot and cold all at once. I'm not sweating, but my wounds are sending feverish, pulsating waves of heat all through me. The other half of the time I'm frozen like a corpse in Perry's arms as he talks quickly and quietly to me. He's running now, and it's near unbearable and very frustrating. In the back of my mind, I know I urgently need to be relocated. Still, all I wish to do is curl up and stop existing.

It seems like days before we reach Sacred Heart, but I recognize the bright beacon-like sign quickly and some unidentifiable sentiment surges through me before I can do nothing but focus on the wounds again.

Dr. Cox slams into the building, and Kelso is, inexplicably, there. I feel him begin a biting, surly remark, but then he notices that my body, in Perry's arms, is failing. His old, watery blue eyes are wide and he stares after Dr. Cox, who has begun to do that other thing he does.

That other thing he does. You know- bark orders.

Something stabs me, "Dr. Cox-!" I choke, desperate. But I don't know what I want to say. I want this to be gone. I'm sure, despite the insults, the girls' names, the pointed _hatred... _that he wants this to be gone, too. I can see he's just as distressed as I am.

"Hush, there, Newbie," he growls. His eyes aren't on me- he's searching, frantic, for an available, equipped room.

"Come this way," Turk says then, and I see him dash past us. Dr. Cox follows and his face is grim. I realize about then how fast everything is going. It only took about two minutes to get to the hospital (I'm so lucky it's nearby) and they're both running now. Everything else is just a blur around me. We turn a corner. Almost there.

Suddenly, my back.

And I can't help but to scream.

It's a horrible scream. Any other situation, Perry would use this scream to torture me and my 'femininity' forever. But, this isn't any other situation. Instead of providing him with infinite insult ammunition, my scream startles Dr. Cox. He freezes, and I jostle in his hold. He grips me more tightly in reflex.

Not necessarily because of him, I call out again and kick out oddly. I'm just a bit more awake at this point, though my body is ready to give up on me.

Suddenly, I'm blind.

I'm sweating, now.

"Okay, JD!" Dr. Cox tells me with another, comforting squeeze. But I don't really know what he means. He breaks out into a run after Turk, who had previously frozen to stare. They're running, running now, and I think I hear a small string of other nurses and doctors following, wanting to help. I know everyone else just stares and judges the situation for themselves before resuming idle work. Whatever. This is a hospital- I can't expect them to be too roused by this.

More flames up my spine and I'm choking again. I do seem to need some oxygen. Please.

I finally feel myself start to slip away. Perry's actions had really been the only thing keeping me awake and animate, and now that my spine had apparently and inexplicably shattered, I was wasted. There was no energy in me. None.

"No, no, no, JD. No," Perry says, jostling me again, cruelly, "You can't sleep yet."

And I know that, but I don't care. I know it's dangerous to just doze off, in my condition. But, really, how much longer until I can just get some oxygen? I can't hardly keep my brain functioning, and trying to breath just results in horrible, wracking coughs that slake my throat and chest with renewed, horrid fires and pains.

There is a mild, but present pain in my clavicle and shoulder. I decide to focus on that for a while, and find that my eyesight, previously shot out by pain, is slowly refocusing.

Finally, I find myself on a bed, but the sudden and hasty straightening of my spine sends hurting like no other up my entire length and I choke and bite my lip before loosing another, horrid howl. And this is when it's simply impossible for me to remain even _remotely _tacit anymore. I can think to do nothing but writhe and howl and sob. At least I know I'm managing to suck in some air, no matter what pain and damage I know it's causing.

Dr. Cox sports a hard grimace, then begins to cut away his jacket and my shirt. He's wiping the blood away from the wounds with his bare hands, and Turk is buzzing around my other side, preparing what he's going to need for my survival. They're talking with each other.

I hear, "Okay, Dr. Cox. We've got it," Turk says it- he's all serious business.

Dr. Cox sniffs, crosses his arms, and stands virulent.

I realize then that a good bit of the surgical team is present with us. Why was everyone here tonight? Wasn't it, like, one in the morning?

I see Dr. Wen, and he's looking at Turk. I notice he's talking, but I'm unable to focus long enough to find out what he's saying. My sight is blacking out- it's spotted. Still, I see Turk's look of horror as Dr. Wen tells him he can't assist in my surgery. And then- Perry's look of purple rage and wild terror as Todd and Turk help him out of the room. He looses an arm free of their hold, and reaches for me. I wish I could smile.

I'm gone under sedatives.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Carla."

"Perry? Is that you?" her voice is groggy. Still, she immediately realizes something in the strained silence. Perry feels her bite her lip, "Is Turk okay?" she asks softly.

"He's sitting right next to me," Perry replies elusively. He's as gruff as usual, but she's too good- she can tell he's overwrought. Carla recognizes so much in that voice.

"Perry?"

"Baby... it's JD," Turk has decided to manage the call now- Perry was needed some time to rub his hands over his face, through his hair.

"I'm coming." She didn't want the details just yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Elliot, honey."

"Carla? Is that you? Why're you calling me? It's... three in the morning!"

Carla smiles a bit- it _is _three, but Elliot sounds so awake anyhow. Carla doesn't want to be the one, "JD needs you at the hospital," she says, quickly finding herself not _nearly_ as expertly vague as Perry.

Elliot chokes on her next breath. She holds it, then released it in a hard gasp, "Okay." It's the tiniest little squeak.

Carla sighs and bites her lip. She gets out of the car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elliot arrives just as Dr. Wen presents himself. There is no sign of a clipboard or anything, which has Perry more tense then a wound coil. The blood all over his minty scrubs has Carla queasy, Turk grief-stricken. Elliot stands at the door of the room, too unaware of the situation. Carla leans on the back of the sofa on which Turk and Perry sit together, awkwardly side-by-side.

Dr. Wen wishes he could sit down, too. Three hours in a suspenseful, upbeat surgery has him dead on his feet. Not to mention the stress of it being someone like Dr. Dorian. He wonders if it's okay to realize how much more worried he was during the surgery than he ever was with other patients. He consoled himself, at least, that it was an understandable feeling.

Wen begins big, "He crashed a total of seven times."

Perry's head falls hard into his hands. Carla bites her lip. Turk's eyes shut, his heart stops, and he falls back against the couch. Elliot feels a terrible lump rise in her throat. Her bag falls to the ground, and an assortment of make-ups slide across the linoleum in all directions. It goes ignored, and she suddenly sits where she stands. JD didn't have appendicitis this time.

Wen grimaces inwardly and readies himself for the big explanation. Generally, he doesn't tell the friends and family all too many details, but he knew these four would want to know about every second of the operation. Still, he hoped to leave out the fine details.

"One of the bullets did minimal damage. The other two just about tore him apart," he states. "Bullet number one just passed on through. Enter wound, exit wound. Just missed his lower ribs in the right chest," he clears his throat and wonders why he hadn't brought the charts. They probably thought JD was dead.

Turk had lifted his head, he was staring intensely at Dr. Wen, while Carla thoughtlessly rubbed his shoulder. Tears welled in her big, beautiful, brown eyes, but she bit her lip and fought kept them back. Elliot stared hard at her spilled make-up, some of it opened and leaving interesting shocks of colorful powder across the tile. Her knee was sitting in a particularly bright blue eye shadow, but it was doubtful that she was concerned about her slacks just then.

Dr. Cox hadn't moved. He sat over his knees, fists holding up a heavy head, eyes closed, mouth drawn tight over his clenched teeth. His veins were risen high out of his hands and neck. Portrait of despondency.

"Bullet number two pierced straight into his right lung, which was flooded with fluids We did manage to extract the bullet, but we haven't cleaned his lung up very thoroughly- he crashed before we could try. We got him back quickly enough, but he would crash every few minutes or so after that, and we knew the surgery needed to be wrapped up," Turk had shifted his gaze at this point. Wen could tell the surgeon was imagining what it had to have been like in the room, and he was realizing exactly why he wasn't allowed to assist.

"An emergency rose when we found the third bullet lodged in his lower spinal cord. The shooter must have been in close proximity, for it appears as though the bullet ricocheted off of his right clavicle. From there it damaged his pelvis and rebounded up to rest. He must have moved about a lot to get it lodged in between his discs the way he had," he continued, ready to leave the room. This was a lot more intense than anything he'd ever done before. He knew these people, and he knew Dr. Dorian.

"We extracted the bullet, and decided to drain his lung later- he wasn't anesthetized deeply enough for a longer operation. We're going to have to give him about seven hours before we can work on him again. We'll have to see how he does until then. Still, we can't give him any drugs- it's too dangerous at this point."

Perry stirred. Elliot became attentive. He wasn't dead.

Turk became very restless. He looked as though he just wanted to get up and run, far. Carla kept him anchored. She'd successfully swallowed her tears, and her hands had stopped moving on her husband's shoulders.

Elliot spoke. It was raspy and strained, "How did this happen?"

Dr. Cox made no move to reply, but Carla and Turk were both staring at him in anticipation to let Elliot know that he was involved some how. She could see a rather beautiful bruise blooming under his right eye. The easiest idea was that they were mugged, but it seemed to be a bit more than that.

Everyone found themselves a bit surprised to find Dr. Cox speaking, now. His eyes had opened, but he had not scooted a centimeter, "So he's going to wake up."

Dr. Wen nodded, "Soon."

Perry looked up at him, "Did you call the cops?"

Wen didn't really know the correct answer, "We did. They should be coming in to get a statement from yourself and I," he quickly saw that he had chosen the wrong answer. Dr. Cox got to his feet. He was definitely not pleased.

Dr. Wen nearly felt threatened as he stalked over, but he tore right past him. They all knew where he was going.

Dr. Wen sighed and took his space on the sofa, and Turk made no move to follow JD's mentor. Elliot, however, stumbled to her feet and hurriedly staggered after the man. Carla would have stopped her, but she wasn't trusting her voice. She rubbed Turk's back instead, wondering, too, what could have happened.

Turk mumbled, "Will he be okay, Dr. Wen?"

Dr. Wen didn't bother replying.

He was too busy staring at his shaking hands.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I don't know how I let this happen," Dr. Cox informed the comatose man.

After a stray thought, he added, "I wish I could blame this on you."

His heart wasn't really in it.

He stared at the kid, wanting so badly to hear a ridiculous, offended reply. None came, and Cox sighed and found his head, again, resting on his hands, "You're a disaster," he mutters, words full of horrible emotion.

He barely hears the door swing open.

He glares at the newcomer, needing very much to let them know that they're unwanted. But its Elliot, and his glares never seem to work on her anymore. All he could ever do to get her to scram now was insult her, but he knew he wouldn't be able to right then. Even if it was all he really wanted to do.

Besides tell JD to 'shut the hell up'. He really wanted to do that.

Then Dr. Cox has a different idea. He turns to the blonde woman, "Please, Elliot, just give me a little while," and he did mean it, but he was sure they both knew he hated requesting for what he needed in such a sincere way.

She sucks in her lower lip, trying hard not to get angry with him. Finally, she nods and exits the room sulkily. She meets Turk and Carla, who had begun to make their own way to the room. They glance his way, Turk expressionless, Carla full of concern and grief. Out of instinct, Perry looks to his Newbie, needing that face to finish the regular. His eyes would tell him that everything would be fine, and he cared about him. That's always what happened when Perry felt this bad.

But Newbie's eyes were closed. He wasn't even smiling.

For the first time in so long, Perry's big, strong heartbeat faltered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I wake up to various throbbings, as I knew I would.

My spine harshly reminds me that it exists, and, straight away, I worry about my legs. They're numb, as if they've been deprived of circulation for countless hours, but they _work_. Still, as I shift under the- seemingly eight-ton- blanket, an odd, prickling sensation spikes up my spinal cord. Crippling pain flares up in my lower back.

My right hip is sore and immoveable, and my right shoulder sports pain worse than that of my spine and hip united. My right side has a very sharp ,continuous throbbing. It's pretty distracting.

But the thing bothering me the most is the wounded lung. It's more than uncomfortable, and I realize quickly that any breath just a millisecond too long or too deep will send me into a fit of dangerous, wracking coughs. It feels roughly as though have the worst side-stitch in the history of the planet, but it's up in my right chest. Which is just great, because I do have a gnarly side-stitch actually _in _my right-side. My whole right side is just the disaster district.

I sense someone in the room, and I know they're aware that I'm awake. They don't say anything, though, so it must be Carla- she's probably the only one who would think to just let me rest.

I don't feel as though sleep is looming anywhere near. I might as well spend some energy and knock myself out. I know how little I have- it shouldn't take too long.

I allow my eyes to flutter open, and a horrible, skull-cracking headache rips through me. I wonder, just briefly, if someone has taken a paddle to the back of my head. Bom, bom, bom, bom, bom, _bom_,_ bom_,_ BOM_...

I look over at Perry (I think he saw the surprise on my face, and I think he loved it), who just sat and stared intensely at me. He knew not to say anything. I smile, because I'm actually a bit touched to find him to be the one there for me when I wake up. I wonder how long it's been.

I see my smile land an impact on him, and I'm beaming inside. At least I know now that he's not going to be an emotionless drunk for the time that I need for him to be here, to help me through this. Though I don't know yet what it is I need to be helped through. I don't believe he does either. He's here anyway.

I'm dumb, and so I go to sigh with satisfaction. The deep breath I take stabs my lung fiercely and I seize up and catch my breath. My and actually flies to my chest and my eyes flicker closed. I can't even _imagine _how horrible it would be to start coughing. As slowly as I possibly can, I gently let the air go. I look at Perry.

He's suspended, half on his feet. I wave him off.

Randomly, I wish to bash in the EKG, because I'm sick of its stupid beeps slamming into my cranium each ever-loving second. The sound should be comforting- my heart is beating. Still, I have nothing but glares and contempt for it. Dr. Cox talks to me.

"You crashed seven times," he tells me. His voice scares me.

I look at him, and something sparks in his own eyes as they meet mine.

Another thought floats through my head- what do I look like right now?

"You had a bullet stuck in your spine. You moved too much when I was bringing you here," but he doesn't hold anything against me for it, which is weird. He leans back and searches the room to find something to hold his attention. He's got a crazy, amused smile going. I'll bet he feels uncomfortable. Despite the burning, flaming, ripping, cutting, numbing pain, I myself feel very contented.

"And the-_hen_, Newbie, a bullet got stuck in your _lung_!" Suddenly he's quite animated. He's out of his chair so fast that it startles me and I jostle in the bed. He ignores me as I wince and he's pacing, throwing his arms out, glancing at me every once in a while to make sure I'm there, awake, listening.

"You're lucky your legs even _work_ at this point, and that you even have a _chance _to walk- though it's _slim_," he spits. I realize about then that he isn't even talking to me. He just wants to get this out. He's venting stress, and I let him, just for a moment longer.

"Dr. Cox," I tell him, and my voice is thin, a bit high. I feel like I'm suffocating, little by little. The air itself is just plain cloying to me. I wonder why I don't have any respirators or any other aide. There isn't even an IV. Just the EKG, because I am apparently so prone to crashing.

As he hears my voice, Perry simultaneously halts his therapeutic tangent and whirls around. He ambles swiftly up to my bed, "I don't think you should be talking, Newbie," he eyes me uneasily.

I smile, just a bit, "I'm fine," I meant to exclaim it. I meant for it to be as amicable as usual. I meant for it to be reassuring. Instead, my breath hitches in the middle of the _two-word _statement and I have to pause to swallow and ease my already overwrought lung wound.

After a moment of my regulating my breathing and him patiently waiting and keeping an eye on my condition, just in case, I look up. I can't be awake anymore. I tried. This is too much.

I whisper, "Morphine?"

Dr. Cox grimaces, then shakes his head.

_What?_

He sits down and leans in towards me, "No, Newbie. You're not nearly as stable as you think you are- morphine would kill you."

I flip out, then. I want to scream about how the pain is killing me, but the best protest I can come up with is a piteous struggle in my bed. I throw my numb, tingling legs around a bit and I reach forward, trying to sit myself up. I end up calling out sharply and falling back on the bed. I want to curl up in response to the pain flaring up my spine, but I know that even trying would just hurt so much worse.

Dr. Cox frowns at me, "I'm sorry. Look, JD, just go to sleep for now."

He stands up to leave and give me rest. I stop him with another panicked flail.

He turns and crosses his arms. His look reminds me that I can't really talk.

I do anyway. This had been something I was planning to ask about before I got shot. Back when I was defending myself, I wondered, "What. Did. You. ...Mean."

He raises an eyebrow.

I swallow and push my head back into the pillow. I don't want to elaborate- it takes too much out of me. My arms are strong enough that I can shove my nails into the fleshy palms of my hands.

I look to Dr. Cox again, "When. You. Said."

Rest. Then, "'You... didn't. Say. Anything about... this.'"

And I know he knows exactly what I'm talking about. He goes white, and his arms fall to his sides. He glances out of the room and comes over to the bed again.

I hadn't really had time to think about it. But... there wasn't much to think about- there wasn't much that it could mean. It hinted at something, though.

It hinted that Dr. Cox set me up.

He knows I see that. He sits down again and looks deep into my eyes, which I really don't find myself able to handle right now. I can't focus on his eyes at first, for there is much too much going on with my body, and he is much too intimidating. He waits patiently for me as I struggle with the pain and the breathing. Maybe three minutes later, I look to him.

"I want you to forget about that right now."

Instantly, I open my mouth to protest, because I haven't yet caught on how dumb of an idea protesting is.

For the barest second, Perry's fingers press my lips. His eyebrows are raised ('really?', they ask) and he waits again for me to calm down.

"I _promise _I'll talk to you about that another time. When you're doing better." He waits before raising his eyebrows yet again, hinting that he expects some form of reply.

I'm not looking at him now, but I nod. The fact that he won't tell me now is very unnerving.

Apparently my only motivation to fight unconsciousness was Perry. As soon as the door closes behind him, I'm out. Thank God.

/end

**A/N:** I feel like being a jerk and _not _researching medical stuff. I'm going to make all that stuff up, for the benefit of the story and my laziness.

And, uhh... hey, guys? I'm just wondering... do you like stories when they're in different character's points of view, or if they're just in third person? I really want to know! Please, please review and give me your personal preference! I like writing in both, and I'm not sure what to do!

REVIEW, MONKEYS.

**-PEACE OUT**

**NESSA**


	3. This is a Disaster

**Title: **My Performance

**Author: **The Newest Message (Call me Nessa!)

**Rating: **M- violence, language, m/m, disturbing psycho, disturbing situations, peril...

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. _Nothing_.

**Summary: **Elliot gets herself a stalker who promptly finds himself jealous of JD and messes the kid up. Dr. Cox feels guilty and upset and whatnot, and more bad stuff happens that is... _really bad_. I don't want to tell you it all now! Just read!

**Warnings: **JDA, DCA (Torture in the somewhat near future). And I love cliffhangers!

**Pairings: **JD/Cox. And Turla by default.

**A/N: **Dear God, I think I'm in love. This is already the most amazing fandom I've dipped into. Sure, I get several reviews for my other stories, but none like _these_. You guys... not only do you _bother _to review, but you give me _feedback_. Very good feedback! _All _of you. And maybe it's just one sentence, or maybe it's _paragraphs_, but you all tell me your specific thoughts! You people really make me conscious about what I'm doing. Awesome job, thank you so much, and keep it up! You guys are _astonishingly_ motivating! loves you all

**REVIEWER REVIEWS**

**Piyopi- **Hey! You win the 'first reviewer' prize!

Oh, yes. Turk is going to become very involved, though I don't know yet how I'm going to tip him. Cox is probably going to bark the information at him with self-hatred, or JD will spill it at a particularly vulnerable moment. Either way, I'm very much sure that I'm going to get the other characters as involved as possible- I mean, JD and Cox are important to them, and they're all always together. So we'll see what happens there! Thanks so much for your second review- I totally love you for keeping up!

**Oracle Thunder- **Yo! Thanks for the stalker information (and sorry you have it!)! I will certainly ask you if I have something I want to know!

Anyhow (I say that too much), thank you. I'm really very determined to make sure JD doesn't come off too oblivious or too wimpy. I really want to make sure he comes off as a guy, despite Cox's belief! So please tell me if I ever do anything that opposes that!

Yes, I really should have waited to introduce Lynch. Still, I was impatient and I felt like I wouldn't be able to stall. Anyway, thanks for the input on that!

Seven crashes... is probably too many. I'll have to look that one up, too! XD

Subtle means to antagonize Elliot. Got it. Makes sense to me. He's pretty straightforward as of now, but I'm pretty sure he thinks they're married. Don't worry- I have a _story_.

Well, thank you so much for your review! I hope to hear from you again!!

**Taura Calisto**- Eee! Another lengthy review! Thank you! You win best review, stranger!

Let me say first that what you've said about the research is awesome. You're completely right. (Ha, right now I'm struggling not to spew my big excuse at you). And thank you for saying my assumptions are alright. I think seven crashes was a bit ridiculous, though! Anyway... I can't believe I missed that bit about the fluid in his lung! I never even thought of a chest tube! I just assumed that surgery was the only fix. I'm a dumby! Okay, I'll look into fixing that one, but it may not work out (in such a case it would be addressed in the AN). Thank you very much for the mention- it's very helpful. And I'll definitely look some things up!

Yeah, the idea of Cox setting JD up was really iffy for me, and it came in a sudden, inexplicable flash, so it probably wasn't the best idea to just shove it in there without too much thought. Still, I've concocted several different reasons and motives. Unfortunately, I think I already set myself up for the strangest one. Ah, well, well see what happens.

Thanks a billion for this _amazing _review! Eye-opener! I so wish to hear from you here for chapter three!

**Wolfbane17- **Hey! My first-ever Scrubs reviewer! You reviewed again! loves you

Thanks, I'm glad to hear you think I'm doing well! And, boy, I'm really mean to JD. He's my favorite, but I just can't help myself. Still, I promise you, some good will come of this!

**Hazel in Despair**- I remember you! I love your fics! Also, thanks for coming back!!

I know! I can't believe he set him up either, and I wrote it! Still, he'll be really, really guilty, I promise. And I'm going to give him the tiniest break and tell you all his reasons soon!

Thanks a million for reviewing! It means so much since I love your work! You've gotta update soon, too! Thanks, thanks, thanks! loves you

**Spartan08**- Hey, you reviewed my last time, too! Thanks for devoting yourself enough to review this chapter, too! It means so much!

I know! Dr. Cox is such a jerk sometimes! But, yes, he does have a reason for his actions, and, yes, you guys are going to know about it soon! But that doesn't make everything alright! Thanks again! And again, and again! love

**Insanity Talisman**- Another long one! I could detonate in glee! (I won't...)

Oh my goodness!! You love cliffhangers, too!? We're like... cousins! Oh, I don't know. Still, I like cliffhangers, they make me so excited as well as annoyed. I'm glad someone out there understands my feelings!!

Oh, you like my frantic moments? Thank you! I really weird myself out in those moments, and the character and I both get more and more incoherent. You know, like JD at the end of chapter one. It's just nonsense at a certain point, but it has good effect. There'll be _plenty _of that in the future. Still, thanks so much for being specific! It helps me improve and bring in what I know you guys like!

Haha, I know! I just stumbled across the Scrubs fandom a few weeks ago. At first I thought it was pretty fucked up, but I gave it a chance because I love Scrubs. So I took some fics to my room, read them... here I am. Drawing Scrubs, reading it, writing it, watching it. It's like a disease and I love it. Still, JDA is so terrible! But as they say, tragedy attracts us all!

Thank you, Tali, for your awesome review! ILU!

**Raven2547- **Hey! I haven't heard from you before, have I? Awesome!

Well, thank you so much for your review! I'm really glad to have your opinion- I need them to know what you guys want me to do! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope so dearly to hear from you again!

**Sock Fiend- **You're so awesome, man!! Thanks for reviewing! From the bottom of my heart! I sincerely hope to hear from you again this time around!

**Athena Alpha- **Ooh, a long review!! Joy!!

Haha, the ending confused you!? Well, your review confused me, so we're even! I think the 'x' you're referring to is Raymond, right? As Elliot's ex. Well, guess what! Raymond isn't anyone's ex! He's just criminally insane and _thinks _he and Elliot are married! Just wishful thinking on his part, poor fellow! Anyhow, thank you a million for your review! It makes me glow with happy! Especial thanks for specifically addressing JD's character! I was worried about keeping him in character! bow Thank you, thank you! I hope so much to hear from you again!!

**According to Mel- **Woah, awesome review. For serious.

Any-dang-way, thanks! I know there are several of you who are worried about Cox's involvement, so hearing that some of you are excited about it is good. I find myself iffy about it, actually. I doubt I meditated it enough.

Perspectives are apparently going to be all over. I'll try to keep it main characters' POV for continuity and keep-up, but minor characters and third-person sentient will be about. Thanks for the input- handy!

This story has good perspectives. The reviewers are amazing and supportive and Scrubs is constant for me- I can always watch and appreciate. Also, this story will not be dry to write- I'm going to plan out and make sure each chapter has something significant or dramatic, so I'll have as much fun as you guys do. Often, failed stories are because the writer's material is run out or their ideas aren't as upbeat and accessible as previously thought. Right?

Oh, man, do I love you for bringing up character. No reason why, I guess, but keeping people in character is my big worry. I mean, it will _not _be a good read if the characters aren't themselves. Can I rely on you to whip me into line if I ever have problems in the future? _Please_?

Well, either way, thanks for your opinion on it now- I really loved to hear that. I hope I hear more from you, and you continue to like the story as much as you seem to now!

**Black-Eyed Wicca- **Review!! A review!!

Ho, you're awesome! I loved hearing you liked it- I have to know this stuff!  
Man, of course there's more! _So much more... bwahaha._ Well, anyway, thank you billions for reviewing, I hope you decide to do so again this time around!

Thank you all so much- you're wonderful.

start/

**My Performance**

**Chapter Three (Cox)**

"**This is a Disaster"**

JD has never, ever done anything to me. At least, not intentionally. Not a thing, and yet here I was making his life as hard as I could, setting him up for meetings with psychos every once in a while for effect.

And, no, I wasn't told specifically that there would be a gun, blood, and _crashing _involved, but did I need to be? The guy was crazy, and I should have known all he wanted to do with JD was kill him. Fuck him up, at least. I knew that, and yet I didn't even let a second thought pass through my mind when I agreed with the creep. I just conceded that I would get as drunk as possible as _soon _as possible. Which I did, regrettably so. Maybe I could've kept JD from getting hurt if I were sober.

As soon as the door of JD's hospital room is closed behind me my stomach heaves and my breath catches. Two separate urges grasp me at once. I need to run back in there and be as close to him at possible, but at the same time I need to run as far away as possible. I can't handle the dichotomy, and my body shakes. I throw up, which is dumb. _Real_ dumb, but I can always blame the alcohol.

"Oh, Perry, is it that bad?" Jordan was not, in fact, sympathetic. She was teasing me.

I stand straight again and wipe my mouth across my arm, "Eh," is my choice of words. I don't know how I want to express myself. Do I get mad and push Jordan into line? Or do I bicker back? I can't say I feel like doing either. I start to stalk off, but I just want to run back to Newbie's room and sit in my chair.

"Seriously Per-Bear, what's up?"

She follows me a bit, and so I spin around and grimace, "I'm just a bit drunk."

She crosses her arms as I do, and we've engaged. We're in this now.

She cocks her head and puts on a smirk, "Oh, but you're _always _drunk, Per-Bear! Doesn't usually make you... barf," she waves a hand at the mess I had decided to leave at the door. I glance at it, briefly, and find myself a bit offended. How dare it shoot out of me at such a moment of vulnerability?

"Perry," she's somewhat serious, I see. The middle area. So if I tell her 'what's up' she'll get serious and stop acting ten. Not that I ever minded her acting ten. I do it too. And misery loves company.

"Okay, Jordan, I'll let you in on something..." I stop. No, I won't let her in on something. I don't want to. I don't have to. She has nothing to do with this. This is me and Newbie. Lynch, too, if I ever manage to get my hands around his neck again.

I spin around, and stalk off again, this time mumbling to myself about God knows what.

Her bony hand grabs my elbow and she wheels me around, "Perry, cut it out. How the hell is he?"

I don't even understand why she's here. It's, what, three in the morning? And who called her? Who thought she actually cared? Because she didn't.

She frowns, "Don't do that. I care about the kid, too."

My lips draw back, tight, because I feel like she's lying but I'm too tired to say so.

"How the hell do you think he is, Jordan?" I snap bitingly. She doesn't hear me, and waits for an actual answer. "...I don't know," I finally say, and shrug, "He got shot. Ask Barbie or something."

Come on, Jordan. You know me. You know I can't do this right now.

We share a gaze. I, or rather my eyes, tell her it's bad. She, or rather her eyes, tell me she's sorry. I ask her to stay with him. She says she will, but she's mad about it.

"I'll just ask DJ, then," she threatens, playing along. We can't let it be obviously known that we can get along. We'd rather pretend that we can't get along for a single moment.

"He's not awake yet," I warn, turning on my heel. We both know that this time I'll get away.

"I'll wait on him, then!" she's feigning stubbornness.

I pause as a final thought comes over me, "Who called you here?"

She turns to me, a strange look on her face, "No one. Check your watch, there, Per-Bear."

I check my watch. Oh, okay. It's been six hours. I guess I fell asleep or something in Newbie's room.

I go to the foyer. Turk and Carla are still there. I think Barbie's shift started.

I begin to make my way over to the couple, then I spot Kelso in the corner of my eye. He's coming for me, and I bristle by instinct. Again, I find myself with my legs apart and my arms crossed, "Need something there, Bob-o?"

He simply raises an eyebrow, "Is Dr. Dorian injured?"

I thought it was stupid that he would ask that. How could he not know? To my surprise I didn't even say anything about how stupid his question was, "He _sure_ is."

Kelso sighs, "_And_?" he presses.

I shrug, and wonder why I'm in charge of playing informant for everyone tonight, "GSW." And then I leave. I go over to Carla and sit beside her; I don't know if she notices- her eyes are closed and she leans on her husband, clutching his hand tightly in her own. He looks at me with stupid, puppy dog eyes.

"He seemed... okay," I say, mostly to the wall on the other side of the room.

Gandhi, I see, wants to bolt out of the room. His eyes are wide, but he stays put, for his wife's sake, "He was _awake_?"

I shrug again, "Yeah..."

"Was he in a lot of pain...?" a small question, barely heard.

I think on this one, and shrug again.

"Oh, come on, Cox!"

I stare.

"Tell me the truth!"

I scream, "Fine! He was in so much pain he was _choking _on it!"

Gandhi stares at me in horror and disgust and I stare back with apathy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he mutters, clutching Carla's hand tightly. She's conscious now, "What's wrong?" she asks with Turk.

I begin to think about this, actually. What the hell _is _wrong with me? Without the slightest warning, I throw up again, "I'm drunk," I manage to mumble before desperately staggering for the exit. Gandhi scoffs in disgust. Kelso watches in mild interest.

"Perry..." Carla.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I wake up again and there's a very intrusive, uncomfortable feeling piercing my right side. I wriggle just a little and catch Dr. Wen's face above me.

"Hold your breath, Dr. Dorian..." he mutters. He's very concentrated, though I recognize this procedure to be a rather routine one. He's simply draining my lung. Of what, I have no idea (oh, I have every idea), but it's taking a bit of power to get. Must be something thick. Nothing normal. Okay, I know it's blood. Big deal.

It hurts, at one point. My lung is still injured, it seems, so this is just very inconvenient to say the least. My eyes close on their own accord and my back arches off of the bed, which just makes it all ten times worse. I basically scream in response, and I have to admit the sound even bothers _me_.

"Easy, there," Dr. Cox's hand on my shoulder suddenly. I search wildly before my eyes rest on him, and he just stares at the thin, wiry tube sticking out of my side, "Relax, Newbie, be _still_."

I had very mixed feelings about Perry's attendance. I mean (I admit it) I always feel safer with him around. And relief was my first reaction this time as well. However with his presence came the memory of the last time we spoke. Horrific. I frown grimly as I feel the blood leave my deflated lung, but not because of the discomfort or the pain.

"You... set... me... up," I rasp, mostly to myself. Dr. Cox may or may not have heard me. Either way, I don't care. He doesn't respond. Instead he looks up at Dr. Wen's (who I believe did hear, but didn't understand) determined expression and inquires, "When are you taking him in for surgery?"

The tube slips from my ribs and a cold pad is pressed to the new wound and taped down. Once Wen finishes bandaging me up, he steps back and sighs, "I don't know. Soon, maybe."

Dr. Cox snorts, determined to express how inadequate he finds Wen's response.

I close my eyes and wait for something else to happen, because I don't really know what to do with myself at the moment. I want to see Turk or Elliot or Carla. That would definitely make me feel better.

The door opens and closes. The blinds clack noisily against the glass and crash cruelly into my head. I feel awful. Almost like I have the worst bout influenza in history of the world. Plus the inability to breath properly and being partially paralyzed.

Suddenly, fear rushes through me. I try to sit up, no luck. Steadfastly, I ignore the pain burning away in my spine, "Dear God, can I _walk_?"

I find myself with no answer, and I look to Cox, who has merely lifted an eyebrow, "Just lie down, Jessica. No, you can't walk _now_, your spine was almost shot in two."

I don't know what to think of that. I change the subject, because I don't feel like hearing about permanent damage quite yet. I'd rather speculate.

"I feel better now," I let him know.

"We-_hell_, that's just _great_, Sylvia! 'Cause you don't look better," he says it, almost cruelly.

My eyes narrow. I _so _do not need this crap from him right now. My brief frustration catches him, I see, and he softens up.

"You said," and I'm elated, for I can talk with minimal trouble. It won't last, "you'd talk to me when I was doing better."

Cox raised an eyebrow, again. He does this often, "We're talking now."

Does he really think I was going to forget? "Come on, Perry."

He sighs and falls into the bedside chair, "Well, then, what's the question, Newbie?"

He's going to make this hard? I think I have a right to know this with no trouble. Whatever decision it is he made, I deserve to know about- I'm the one suffering for it. This is crap.

"Dr. Cox, _please_. Just tell me what you did. What happened?" I feel like I know. Hell, I _do _know. Dr. Cox set me up. What I don't know is _why_. And... there _had _to be a reason. He doesn't actually want me dead, right? No, he couldn't... he ran me here, didn't he?

He leans back and runs his hands over his face and back through his curls, "Alright, fine. You asked."

He waits a good amount of time before clasping his hands and leaning forward on his elbows. His amber eyes stare hard into my own blue ones and I find myself looking around constantly. I'm not really very good at this. At least, not right now.

"You know what happened? I found that psycho in the halls. And he said he hated you, and we argued. But I wasn't really listening, Newbie. I wasn't, because _Jack _was there. And I wasn't the one holding him," this statement of his is just too strange. My gaze shoots to his face, and his falls to the floor in the same second.

"I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just told him I'd have you at the bar around midnight. I just figured, I guess... that he was going to rough you up some. Just get in your face. I don't know, Newbie. He had Jack, and I couldn't have him doing stuff like that. I couldn't. I figured... give him what he wants, get out," I can tell his throat is sore. It has to be- I can almost _see _the horrible lump he has to talk around. His voice is so strained and half of his words are just choked out. Bitingly, he concludes his story, "I didn't think."

I don't know how to feel. I mean, the psycho had _Jack_. Of course Dr. Cox would do anything for him. But to sell my life away? He... didn't even _hesitate_. Didn't even try to find another way. What... does he even care? Could be an act- he's just defending himself by pretending he's _sorry _or something. I'm overanalyzing, which is dangerous, but there's nothing I can do about it.

As I re-enter the scene I find myself glaring. Dr. Cox gives me looks every once in a while, then becomes restless as he waits for me to pass a verdict.

...Guilty.

"Get... _out_."

He loosens instantly as the anticipation leaves him, and he rises to his feet, "Oh, come on, Newbie-!"

No excuses! My eyes shut tight and my stomach rolls. I point to the door and realize just how hard I had begun to shake. It's not grief or disbelief or anything like that. I'm mad. I'm pissed. Livid.

"JD-"

I scream. "GET OUT!"

Dear God, my _chest_.

"God, JD, _think _for once!" He can't ever just be sympathetic, can he? I glare at him as he feels my chest and opens my mouth to look for blood rising or anything else that's 'not good'.

And I don't know why now is the time I decide to be fed up with his attitude... maybe I'm just stressed. Whatever the reason, I hope it passes, because I really hate feeling this way. I hate feeling angry, and normally that keeps me from it.

"Out," I croak. I see a hint of grief in his murky eyes and he leaves.

"I'm sorry."

I don't think he wanted me to hear. He just wanted to be able to think he apologized.

"Woah, dude, what's going on in here!?" Turk is in here all of the sudden, and he's feeling my chest, searching vainly for the chest tube that isn't there (and, I assume, should be), "Dr. Cox!" he calls, but I know the borderline-alcoholic has already gone.

"Turk," I try to tell him, but all that comes up is blood and an amazing, light-headed feeling. I focus enough to try and see if Turk as drugged me, but he hasn't, he's rushing about trying to see what's wrong with me (since, apparently, there is something wrong with me), "Dr. Wen!" he half-screams, and I'm gone, gone, gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I had known that entering the room when Dr. Cox was still there wouldn't work. I knew I'd just be sent out, or not given a moment to speak. So, I settled to hide in wait for Mr. Surly Curly to leave, but it took a bit. There seemed to be lots of silence going on in JD's room and I have to say, I thought something nice was happening.

Then my man just... flails, like he wants to land himself a punch. He screams something, and I see Dr. Cox go at him, just a bit, and I'm gone around the corner, taking long strides for the room, ready to give Cox one to the back of his stupid, big head.

He runs in to me, and I grab him, "What the hell did you say to him?" is as daring as I go.

"I just told him why he was shot," he says, looking somewhere else. Looking back, I wonder if he wanted me to just kill him where we stood- I find it likely.

"What's that mean?"

"I just told him I set him up."

What can I say?

And so thus he rips free and almost sprints down the hallway. I hear bad stuff in JD's room and my heartbeat soars at record speed as my stomach drops all the way to my feet. God, what the hell? Cox didn't go in there to finish the guy off, did he? Is he really such a psycho?

I didn't have time to just stand there and think about it. I fly into the room and scream for Dr. Wen, for help.

He's here.

Come on, JD.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And I don't know why now is the time he decides to be fed up with my attitude... maybe he's just stressed. Whatever the reason, I hope it passes, because I really hate him feeling this way. Normally he keeps himself from the anger.

I guess this is different though. This time I didn't just humiliate him in front of everyone. This time I almost killed him, and I had no real excuse for it, and no visible compassion. He should be angry, and I shouldn't be angry that he's angry. I shouldn't be angry at all.

I grimace at how horrible am as I sit there on the couch, alone with my scotch. I don't even bother turning on the television because I know I won't be able to take in a second of what I see.

I wonder how he's doing- I'm sure they've got him in surgery now. I should be there. My body tries to move itself from the couch in desperacy, but I placate it by swiftly downing the rest of my scotch.

I remember that it was my night to watch Jack, but I absolutely cannot trust myself with the task. I couldn't even keep him from being carted off by a stranger.

Or... the people taking _care of him_ couldn't... what the hell? They just let him be carried off by some strange guy?!

Maybe this wasn't all my fault after all.

Enraged and drunk, I shoot to my feet and exit the apartment. I need to smash some faces.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I arrive there at the hospital soon enough and in my rage it takes me about ten minutes to figure out how to get to the day care center. Subconsciously, I note to go check on JD after this- he's definitely out of surgery by now.

"I can get you fired!" I roar before I even find a caretaker to target.

A male nurse strides up to me, business-like. It's almost funny, he's almost half a foot shorter than I am, and he's even scrawnier than Newbie, "Can I help you, sir?"

I'm sure he realizes how drunk I am, even though I don't, and I sneer, "I don't think so! You couldn't help my four-year-old, so how could you help me!" Along with my sobriety, my clarity in speaking has gone out the window.

"Excuse me?" He turns his head a bit in a stupid semblance of confusion. His eyes are all squinty and I just want to punch him.

So, I do.

Two nurses cry out at once and come hurrying over, "Simon!" they squeak together.

His name is _Simon_? I sneer at him as he holds his face in astonishment. He begins to pull himself together and I sense a punch coming five seconds before it's even launched. I punch him again, and this time he hits the ground and the two nurses come at me, determined to keep me away from their Simon.

I shove them away mercilessly, and begin yelling nonsense. I see Kelso coming for me in the distance, which only manages to excite me further, and I shove a doctor off of me, and let loose a few swear words. Children are crying. This whole thing is a disaster, but I haven't realized it yet.

"Dr. Cox!" I wheel around, instinctively. I see Gandhi there.

Wheeling JD, who stares in suppressed horror.

_Now _I've realized it.

/end

**A/N:** Bit of a wait there, no? Sorry, I was trying to get some medical research done, and I couldn't fix things like I wanted. So medical stuff can now be considered inaccurate because I should have researched before I even started chapter two. Sorry, sorry.

Also, I feel as though the plot is suffering- I don't think I meditated Cox's involvement near enough. I'll fix that up as soon as possible.

This chapter just needed to be over- it didn't work out right at all by any means.

JD shouldn't be so angry... but it worked out better.

No more excuses!!

Love you guys, hope you liked it!!

**-PEACE OUT**

**NESSA**


	4. DEAREST READERS

**THIS IS HAPPENING.**

**BE READY, MY FRIENDS. FOR CHAPTER FOUR IS OFFICIALLY A "GO".**

**CAN I GET A "HOO-HAH"?**


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